Just a Peon
by Aravyth
Summary: Oft ignored, taken for granted, treated poorly. They're just peons, who cares?


An orc woman grunted as she lifted a large wooden crate out of the cart sitting by Wyvern's Tail. Her bald head gleamed in the harsh sun and her rounded face was contorted almost painfully as she lugged her burden into the cool shade of the quiet tavern. The few patrons barely gave her a glance while the troll bartender by the name of Gravy ignored the struggling orc outright in favor of chatting up a clearly drunk goblin gal. The orc woman stopped at the bar and whimpered, waiting for further direction. Gravy continued to ignore her. Her arms began to shake and she peaked around the crate to look at him pleadingly. A tauren near the back snorted as the troll made another drink for the goblin. The woman finally gasped out desperately, "Where me put?!"

Snickering skittered about the room. Gravy sighed, rubbing his long face tiredly, but before he could answer the goblin spoke up. "Gee, I'm not sure honey, but maybe you should put it in the same place you put the other ones?"

Completely oblivious to the sarcasm practically dripping from every word, the orc looked to the bartender for confirmation. He simply nodded at her sending the orc scrambling excitedly to the small stack beside the bar. An impatient yell from outside had her then rushing clumsily, the crate nearly crashing to the floor before she could push it to a sturdier position on top of the others. Panting now she ran outside without pause. That is, until she ran smack dab into a large orc male in leather standing at the bottom of the steps with an irritable look on his face. He rolled his eyes as she looked up at him from the ground with wide surprised eyes. He grunted out to her, "Stay here, don't move. Aro is tired of lugging you around and so am I."

He gestured at the kodo attached to the cart, it's dull expression surprisingly similar to the peon's. At the moment however, the orc female's lower lip was wobbling and her ash colored eyes were filling up with tears. "Rokar leave Kirga? Was me bad? Me do better!"

The woman nearly wailed the last word and began to cry for him not to leave. Rokar half shouted at her in response as he looked around uncomfortably, "Damn it Kirga, I'm not leaving you! I'll be back, okay? Just, uh, it's your rest time, yeah?"

Sniffling loudly and hiccupping, Kirga calmed down enough to ask, "Rest time? What dat?"

Sighing in relief, the male orc pulled out a few silver coins to hand to her as he explained, "No work right now, eat and drink. Stay in the tavern though, okay? Just sit inside there until I return."

The peon gazed at the coins she held with awe, whispering to herself, "Rokar trust with little shinies,' and continuing proudly to him, "Kirga not lose! Use for _good_ food!"

Smiling now, Rokar patted her shoulder before climbing up into Aro's saddle. "I know you will, you're a good pup."

She puffed out her chest at his praise and then waved vigorously as Rokar slowly left the valley with an empty cart in tow. Once he was out of sight Kirga turned again to the Wyvern's Tail and, still smiling widely, stepped back into the blessedly cool shade. The goblin was passed out now on the bar and the tauren had moved from his spot near the door to chat quietly with the bartender. Gravy nodded to him before facing the peon with an eyebrow raised questioningly; what could she want now? Bubbling with excitement Kirga thrust the handful of silver towards the troll and spoke loudly, "Me buy food, _good _food, and yummy punch drink!"

Gravy had to admit, if only to himself, that if he wasn't worried about losing Rokar's business he would take every single coin and give her the cheapest stuff he had. What would a peon know about good food? Instead, he merely accepted a few and yelled at the cook to prepare a slab of boar and root vegetables smothered in a thick sauce. He then watched the tauren and orc interact while he prepared their drinks; bitter cactus cider and some fruity goblin concoction he assumed she had be referring to. The tauren, Mahun, smiled patiently at the peon chattering happily with him. "Rokar not let Kirga have little shinies before, but he say me good pup! Good pups get rest time and yummy things and no work! Get to do Rokar things!"

Mahun chuckled at her joyfulness and replied while he accepted his drink from Gravy. "Ah, and what will you do with the, ahem, little shinies you still have?"

The tauren drank from his cider as he waited for her response, ever patient while she gushed over her 'Punch Drink.' Kirga took a slow careful sip, savoring the taste, and beamed up at both her taller companion and the bartender. "It better than Kirga thunk!"

The troll nodded awkwardly at her and moved away, almost eagerly, to clean up the drool the passed out goblin was leaking onto the counter. Mahun wrinkled his nose in disgust. Obliviously, the peon scrunched her face up in thought having recalled the question she was asked. Minutes passed and she began to frown in distress. Giving up, she pouted at the tauren, silently asking what he'd do. He simply patted her hand, the one holding the coins, and advised her, "You keep them. Save them for something special, for they are special themselves."

She nodded happily and began to chatter away again, unmindful of the curious and annoyed looks she garnered. Mahun continued to listen, and to question, curious about such a seemingly unusual peon.

Some time later when she began to fret over Rokar's absence, an orc stomped into the building, announcing a pending speech by some of the more prominent of their people. Although she didn't understand what was going on, Kirga felt the curiosity and growing excitement from the crowd that had gradually filled up the tavern. Becoming excited herself she forgot Rokar's order to stay inside and followed some of the other patrons out into the dying light to where Kor'kron and exalted warriors of the Horde stood. She gazed about with wide eyes as the crowd grew around her and as powerful orcs in front spoke in hushed voices to each other. Mahun stood behind her, curious himself at the commotion and mildly worried about her.

In short time everyone grew quiet as an orc in battle leathers and one in plate stepped forward. Kirga became confused as they spoke; she didn't comprehend what they spoke of and the mixed reaction from the people around her made her head ache. The crowd was restless and jostling; though orc heavy many other races of the Horde were in attendance as well. Goblins in particular were rowdy, irritably shoving through to see beyond the forest of taller races. One crafty goblin convinced a male pandaren to set him upon his shoulders. Another of notice, resigned perhaps, simply stared at the back of a troll woman as he listened with boredom and impatience painted plainly upon his sharp features.

The ache in her head worsening, Kirga tried to back up succeeding only in bumping against the frowning Mahun. Obligingly, he attempted to back up as well only to hear cursing from behind due to stepping on an orc's foot. The gathering had grown to such proportions that not even the tauren's bulk could wade through it. Kirga whimpered, easily heard in a sudden quiet, and she silently begged for Rokar to come for her. The thought was wiped though as two shouts followed by a deafening noise blasted out along with the twin flashing of a blindingly bright lights and a powerful force that laid the crowd flat, even those at the very edges. Kirga could see nothing, hear nothing, couldn't even feel the rough ground against her back. Panic began to flutter in her chest.

Then the pain came, burning deep and forever searing it's self into her memory. She cried out, but could just barely hear her own voice over the loud ringing in her ears. Slowly, so very slowly her senses return, but with them the pain only increased. The terrible burning from face to feet, the fierce stinging from the back of her head and other exposed areas along the rest of her back, the painful thudding beat in her ears. She still couldn't see, couldn't open her eyes. Her chest ached with fear and need, she cried out again and could make out her own words this time. "Rokar!?"

It was pure destruction and carnage. Two bombs, set off in the middle of a great gathering right in Orgrimmar thanks to the two goblins. The pandaren who so graciously gave one of them a shoulder had been blown completely apart along with them as well had been the unlucky dozens standing close to them. The rest were left in various states of injury with the farthest suffering only mild pain from a hard landing. The few healers that had been close, or who survived the blasts well enough, moved swiftly towards the center to save who they could. Most glanced hesitantly at Kirga withering weakly on the ground with terrible burns and moved on, the rest ignored her outright. She was just a peon, what was a peon's worth compared to real citizens? To heroes, to movers and shakers, to healers like themselves?

Kirga didn't notice any of this of course, nor did Mahun who once stood behind her and now struggled to regain his bearings as he laid on the ground. However, Rokar noticed it right away as he carefully rushed around the fallen towards her, an inarticulate roar of rage tearing from his throat. He fell onto his knees carelessly beside her and softly touched a burnt cheek, eliciting a whispery cry of pain from her. He crooned as soothingly to her as he could as he desperately looked around for a healer willing to tend to her, "It's okay Kirga, I'm here. Big brother is here, you'll be fine. I said I'd always protect you and I failed, I failed you! But I'm here now, I'll make one of those damned healers help you and everything will be fine again. Just stay with me, stay with big brother."

Hearing his voice though only a few of his words, Kirga tried to reach for him and he gently took her hand which curled around his despite the pain. Rokar came for her, her brother came back for her. He'd make it all better, right? He always did. She croaked, "M-make the hurt g-go away. So bad, s-so bad. What do w-wrong?"

Mahun was sitting up behind them now with the help of a blood elf priest. He blinked furiously as holy magics speeded up his natural healing and his sight and hearing returned to him. When he saw the two orcs he shook his great head and pushed the elf's hands off of him, urging her to attend to the suffering peon. He spoke gruffly, impatiently, "I can move, my injuries are not so serious. Help her instead. Why do you hesitate?!"

Rokar's face was wet with tears, uncaring of being seen as weak by others for crying over a peon. Kirga's pleading had cut through him. So he turned towards the two arguing and begged. He begged her, "Please, please help her. I'll pay you, I'll give you whatever I have. I don't want to lose her, I can't!"

Swallowing thickly at such an unusual sight, the blood elf did as bade and softly spoke, guilt clear in her tone, "No payment, I'll do what I can."

Sighing in relief, Rokar returned to giving Kirga gentle reassurances and soft pats on the unhurt parts of her hand, "See? I found you someone, she'll make the hurt go away. You'll be fine and we'll go back home. Back home where you'll be safe and I'll never leave you alone again"

The tauren stood with a slow stiffness as the blood elf worked with the Light over the peon and for the first time looked around at the demoralizing results of the bombs. Bodies and body parts everywhere, a discordant chorus of pained cries filling the air, small smoking craters where the bombs went off, and blood soaking the entire scene. Shaking, he closed his eyes against such images and refocused on the injured woman before him.

Her burns turned into red, fresh scarring with an aching slowness and eventually most of her sight and hearing was returned to her. Kirga weakly looked at the elf who healed her, able to see her now despite the lingering blurring of her sight, and whispered her thanks. Nearly overwhelmed by the simple, yet powerful gratitude in those two words that she's rarely heard the past year or so, the blood elf felt her face flush with more guilt and hurried away after a bare nod.

Letting her leave, Rokar carefully picked up his now sleeping sister and turned towards the tauren still standing by them. They eyed each other for a moment, silent. They didn't react to the glares sent their way, the same heated looks given to the healer that dared to stop for a mere peon, but made note of them all the same. Mahun nodded to the great archway leading to the Drag and the two men eased their way around the injured and the growing number of healers. They would talk in time, but for now Kirga needed a safe place to rest and the family farm was a good ways out from Orgrimmar.


End file.
